


Vestige

by sciencefictioness



Series: Amnesia [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of Jesse/Genji, Sibling Incest, Temporary Amnesia, Trans Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: They don’t usually have a fight waiting, but sometimes, one comes looking for them.Sometimes Gabriel comes to find Jesse, and they go together.  Genji doesn’t go with them— he doesn’t have any of the love for Gabriel that still lives in Jesse, now.  Against all odds.  Hanzo is in no place to judge Gabriel.Genji is in no place to judge Jesse.  The wounds they’ve cut into one another stitch them all together.Jesse goes with Gabriel, and his gear, and his guns.Genji comes to Hanzo and crawls into his bed.It isn’t safe for Genji to sleep alone.  Not with the way his body betrays him from time to time, throwing Genji backwards through the years and snatching half his memories.Sometimes he gets lost and tries to go back home; to the place where their father is buried.To the place where Hanzo cut him into pieces and left him for dead.Sometimes he’s lost.  Sometimes he’s terrified.Sometimes there is nothing, and Genji is no one.  It’s Hanzo’s fault, like most things, now; Genji forgave him a long time ago.He’s a fool, the way Jesse is a fool.  It’s no wonder they ended up here, together.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada
Series: Amnesia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1433143
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Vestige

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shimadacest week day two, 'Red.'

They don’t usually have a fight waiting, but sometimes, one comes looking for them. 

Sometimes Gabriel comes to find Jesse, and they go together, geared up and chasing down ghosts. Genji doesn’t go with them— he doesn’t have any of the love for Gabriel that still lives in Jesse, now. Against all odds.

Against all reason. Hanzo wasn’t there, but he’s heard the stories. The things Gabriel did, and lead others to do. Hanzo is in no place to judge Gabriel.

Genji is in no place to judge Jesse for all the candles he’s still holding; for old soldiers. For old friends. The wounds they’ve cut into one another stitch them all together.

Jesse goes with Gabriel, and his gear, and his guns.

Genji comes to Hanzo and crawls into his bed. 

It isn’t safe for Genji to sleep alone. Not with the way his body betrays him from time to time, throwing Genji backwards through the years and snatching half his memories. Genji is capable of taking care of himself— there’s nowhere in his past that his cybernetics can send him where he isn’t strong, isn’t swift, isn’t dangerous. He’s been a weapon for as long as he can remember, but it isn’t a matter of keeping him safe. 

Sometimes he gets lost for too long and tries to go back home; to the place where their father is buried, remnants of the clan playing yakuza in the ruins of Shimada castle.

To the place where Hanzo cut him into pieces and left him for dead.

Sometimes he’s lost. Sometimes he’s terrified.

Sometimes there is nothing, and Genji is no one. It’s Hanzo’s fault, like most things, now; Genji forgave him a long time ago.

He’s a fool, the way Jesse is a fool. It’s no wonder they ended up here, together.

Genji sleeps beside him when Jesse is away, close enough that if he wakes, he’ll feel Hanzo there. He’d be tangled up in Hanzo, if Hanzo allowed it. Pressing close to kiss him, hands sliding into his clothes. It’s more than Hanzo deserves, though, more than he can accept.

Even this is too much; the sound of Genji’s steady breathing. The warmth of his skin.

Hanzo drew a sword, and cut him apart. Sometimes he looks and Genji and it’s all that he can see.

Hanzo can feel when Genji wakes up next to him. He sighs, and stretches, and rolls towards Hanzo— Genji sleeps in his prosthetics when they stay together. It can’t be comfortable, and Hanzo wishes he wouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself from flinching when Genji takes them off. 

Like a beat dog, Genji said once, then wished he hadn’t.

Genji sees Hanzo in the dark and hums low in the back of his throat. He lays a palm on his stomach, slides it under his shirt. Hanzo grabs his wrist to stop him and Genji laughs softly under his breath. 

“Genji,” he says warningly. Genji scratches his fingers through the hair on Hanzo’s abdomen and throws a leg over his thighs.

“Where are we?” Genji asks in Japanese, nosing at Hanzo’s jaw. He sounds confused, but not afraid.

He sounds young. 

Hanzo winces.

“Where do you think we are?” Hanzo asks in turn, waiting. It’s always better to let Genji come back on his own, but lingering with him in the places he goes isn’t always painless. Genji glances around the room, humming again.

“I… can’t remember. I must have gotten too drunk last night or something. You let me get fucked up on clan time, anija?” Genji grinds against Hanzo’s thigh, kisses him on his throat. “God, I can’t remember anything. Was I good for you?” 

Hanzo wrenches his eyes shut, trying not to lean into Genji. Shove into his palms, press into his kiss. Genji thinks they are back in the clan, at some safehouse or hotel after a hit. Thinks they’re young, again, fresh blood on their hands. 

Thinks Hanzo is still someone else; a monster, always, but less of one.

Thinks Hanzo is his to take, and he’s right— Hanzo will always be his.

Genji shouldn’t want him.

“Don’t, Genji. Please. We… we can stay here awhile. Just go back to sleep.”

Genji pulls his wrist free of Hanzo’s grasp and palms him through his pajamas. Hanzo is hard, and rocks into his hand. He can’t help it when Genji is close this way, kissing him, touching him. No one else has touched Hanzo in years and years. There’s no one for Hanzo but Genji. 

“You want me,” Genji says, rubbing at him through thin cotton. It’s not a question. Hanzo nods before he can stop himself. “What’s the matter, then? I do something wrong, on the job?” Genji kisses his cheek. Squeezes him, rolling his hips in tight little circles, hot enough that Hanzo can feel it even with the layers between them. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry, anija, I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Want you so bad, feels like you haven’t fucked me in ages. Please, Hanzo?”

Hanzo should say no, except this is Genji, and not the one he sees every day. This is Genji with Sojiro looming in the shadows. Genji with the clan clamoring for his blood. 

Genji with his future bathed in red, red, red. He doesn’t even know.

Hanzo nods his head, pulls Genji closer.

“Okay,” he says, seeking Genji’s mouth in the dimness.

Genji won’t even hate him tomorrow, when he is back again. Here, and now. Hanzo will only hate himself, and that is nothing new. A small price to pay for this— Genji smiling against his lips. Genji moaning in anticipation.

“Fuck yes,” Genji breathes, already tugging at their clothes. It only takes a few moments. Genji doesn’t try to turn on the light. Once upon a time, they were used to this— touching one another in the dark. 

Fucking Genji used to feel like stealing.

It still does, he finds, Genji sinking down on him as he whines and grits his teeth. Genji is wet, and warm, and perfect. He isn’t taking anything from Sojiro anymore.

Now he’s only taking from Genji. 

Hanzo closes his eyes, and doesn’t think of Jesse.

He hasn’t felt Genji like this in over a decade. His eyes light up, Hanzo trying his best to see more of Genji with nothing but the moonlight filtering in through the blinds. His head is thrown back, his mouth fallen wide. He lays his palms on Genji’s thighs, one hand sliding higher, Hanzo thumbing at his clit.

“Oh,” Genji says, shuddering atop him. “God, anija, you feel so good. I love you.”

There are tears in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks, and Hanzo is grateful for the dark. Genji can’t see him crying. Can’t see the grey in Hanzo’s hair, or the foreign metal and synthetics of his limbs. The scars on his skin from Hanzo’s sword. Can’t see what a mess Hanzo has made of him. It matters, and it doesn’t. Genji is still perfect. Still gorgeous.

Eager in his lap, palms flat on Hanzo’s stomach, riding him hard. He’s loud, making breathy noises, god, anija, fuck me.

Hanzo rolls them over and puts Genji on his back. Fucks him rough, just the way he likes it. Genji comes, once. It won’t be enough. He clings to Hanzo, pressing kisses to his shoulder and sucking bruises into his throat, don’t stop, don’t stop. Hanzo will have scratches down his back. Teeth in his neck. 

Hanzo will have Genji all over him for days.

Genji’s like silk and his mouth tastes so sweet and Hanzo has been starving for ages. He comes inside him, shivering, whimpering into Genji’s lips. 

He takes a moment to breathe there in Genji’s arm, drugged with the feel of him. The scent, the sounds.

Then he drops down between Genji’s thighs and puts his mouth on him, licking into his cunt, heedless of the bitterness he’s left behind. Genji buries his fingers in Hanzo’s hair and ruts into his face, god yeah, Hanzo, just like that. He eats him out until he comes, then keeps going. Again, and again. His face is soaked. His jaw is sore.

Hanzo only stops when Genji shoves him away.

“Come here,” Genji says, tugging Hanzo up into his arms and kissing him one last time. “Go to sleep, Hanzo,” he mumbles, nestling in as close as he can get. 

Hanzo stares at the ceiling with Genji’s hand over his heart. Sleep seems impossible, but it takes him fast, and hard, and doesn’t let go until morning.

He wakes with Genji tracing patterns in his skin, the sheets kicked off into the floor, the way Genji always does. Hanzo blinks down at him in the faint light creeping under the door, trying to read the expression on his face. Genji presses closer, hiding it in Hanzo’s throat.

“If I pretend I can’t remember, will you stay here with me?”

Genji sounds lost. Sounds young. 

Hanzo shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to pretend,” Hanzo whispers. Like if he says it quietly enough, it won’t be his fault. “It’s alright.”

Genji makes a noise in his throat, something between anguished and overjoyed. He doesn’t try to kiss Hanzo, yet. Just holds tighter, breath hitching like he’s struggling not to cry.

“Genji,” Hanzo says, distraught at the sound. Genji lets out a sob.

“I missed you,” he says, voice breaking, like Hanzo hasn’t been close for ages. He hasn’t, really. Not like this.

Hanzo doesn’t know why, but he nods anyway. Pulls Genji’s face up to kiss him. It goes on for awhile, but then Genji is climbing on top of him again, Hanzo sinking into him. Neither of them lasts very long. Both of them are crying.

They’re still lost in each other afterwards, mouths sliding wet and messy, when a voice breaks the quiet.

“Oh,” Jesse says from the doorway, wide eyed with surprise. “Oh, fuck, I’m… sorry, I’ll just…”

Hanzo’s stomach twists and drops, shame rolling over him as Jesse backs out of the room in a hurry. His excuses seem flimsy now. Worthless. Jesse is his friend. 

Jesse is more.

Jesse would be something else entirely, in a different world. A different place. A different time. Here, now, Jesse is Genji’s.

Genji is Jesse’s, too, and Hanzo is so stupid.

Genji doesn’t seem worried, though, brushing Hanzo’s hair back from his face with an indulgent smile.

“It’s okay. I promise it’s okay. He knows. You know that, right? I’ve told you that before.”

Jesse knowing what they’d been to one another a long time ago and Jesse seeing them like this aren’t the same things, but Genji looks so at ease that it’s hard to find the words to protest. Embarrassment is a living thing in him, cheeks bright and heart beating fast.

“I can’t believe you told him about us.”

It’s the easiest thing to say, something he’s said before. Genji cups Hanzo cheek with one hand.

“I still wanted you. I don’t lie to him, and he doesn’t lie to me. He knows I miss being with you like this. He’ll be happy for me, Hanzo. It’s not like you want me to leave him, right?”

“NO!” Hanzo says. Shouts. Quiets himself, face heating brighter. “No, I… don’t do that. Don’t say that. Christ, Genji.”

Genji’s grinning wide. It’s something Hanzo hasn’t seen a while, not like this. He rolls out of bed and pulls on his briefs, as well as Hanzo’s shirt. Hanzo doesn’t remember biting the insides of Genji’s thighs, but his teeth marks are there, bruise-violet and unmistakable.

“I’m going to go talk to him. I’ll be back, okay?”

Hanzo nods dumbly as Genji leaves the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. The sheets are already around his waist. He tugs them up higher, listening to Genji and Jesse’s voices drift in from the other room. They go on for a while, talking back and forth. There’s no yelling, nothing loud. 

Genji does come back eventually, eyes glittering, rubbing the muscle on his right arm where his prosthetic meets the skin.

“Come take a shower with me. Jesse’s making us lunch.”

Hanzo puts his face in his hands, but Genji is relentless, and he ends up pressed against the wall of his shower with Genji on his knees. His mouth looks so pretty stretched around Hanzo’s cock. He’s louder than he wants to be with Jesse in the other room. Still, he doesn’t say no.

He is a fool, just like Genji is a fool, just like Jesse is a fool, but it seems like they will be fools together.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things!


End file.
